I am schlobberknockered from sickness and the conference, so thank God it's Five-Minute Friday, because that is about 4 minutes' more energy than it feels like I have. Set this timer and MOTOR...
So much of what I've been trying to say boils down to this. Don't make me something I'm not, don't skew me to fit into the version of life you've created in your downtime. Don't find labels that stick enough to get the job done. "Take me for who I am," the song warbles in my brain, "Take me, baby--or leave me."
Because when every other thing has traveled the bell curve of thrill to mundane, I'd prefer to be somewhere in the middle--rarely your headline, but never off your radar. At the end of the day, what I need is not to be the center, but to be known as me. In a word, to be noticed. Not so much acknowledged or glanced at, but in the root of the word, to be made known, to be seen and, insodoing, understood.
A very simple gift, but a powerful one. Never not notice me. Sometimes that will mean saying the wrong thing, hurting me, tearing into my heart with rough fingers, but it will never mean being unseen, forgotten, ignored. Maybe I ask for too little, but from where I sit it stands towering and mighty.
Never let me become part of the scenery. Just notice me. Know me. Understand and fathom and plumb the depths of me, believing, trusting that one day you'll carve me out on parchment, a map of formerly unknown regions, now laid out and documented and explored and loved and known.